Personal Relations Specialist
by Alianna Trenval
Summary: Shira Clarev gets tossed into Middle Earth. We all know how it goes. Tenth Walker/Legomance I figure I'm not the only one who likes the sort.
1. Shira Clarev

A/N: My first fanfic. I used to be absolutely obsessed with LotR, but I've mostly gotten past the obsession part. But I still really really really really like it. Like a whole lot. I'm getting into a sort of phase, and I figured I'd finally put some ideas I've had for a fic up here. Yeah, sorry.

This will undoubtedly be some sort of Mary-Sue, Tenth Walker, Legomance. But, hey. Those are what I like to read, and those are what I think about. So, yeah. I'm goin' with it. So don't flame too hard. And I haven't finished the outline yet, so bear with me. I decided I wanted to do this at some ridiculous hour of the night, and I was very tired, but in a very fanciful mood.

This will be based on the movies. It's been too long since I've read the books, and I don't like to get too technical with things like this. I mean, it won't get published, so it's simply for enjoyment.

Reviews are much appreciated, so, yeah. If you could do that for me, I'd give you cookies. Not the kind that pops up in your virus scans, but the imaginary ones. Thanks guys.

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**Chapter One: Shira Clarev**

Shira was always very slow in the mornings. She had a habit of staying up later than she intended, and consequently refused to wake up in the morning. Thankfully, her only class on Thursdays was European History, and it didn't start until ten. She managed to crawl out of bed at eight thirty or so, and merely moved into the kitchen where she stirred a glass of chocolate milk quietly. Well, as quietly as one could actively stir chocolate milk.

_Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink._

It was an entertaining noise, at least for her. If anyone else had made it, she would have probably snapped at them. However, she lived alone in her little apartment, and had herself for company.

She never ate solid food in the mornings. Her stomach was never settled enough for it. But she had discovered that chocolate milk gave a pleasant flavor and filled her up without making her nauseous. She took her time drinking it, reading a book as she did so. It wasn't until half an hour later that she hurriedly dressed in a pair of comfortable dark blue-jeans and a snug t-shirt. She glanced over herself in the mirror, checking to see if she'd gotten deodorant on the outside of her shirt when she pulled it on. She had a bad habit of putting the deodorant on before her clothes, and was rewarded with faint white stripes on her sides.

Luckily, today she had managed to ninja her way out of it while maneuvering the shirt on, and she felt quite proud of herself. One last glance at her face in the mirror gave her enough confidence to rush out of the bathroom and tug on her socks and converse before jogging out of the house. She had gotten half a block before she smacked herself in the forehead and turned back around. Quickly, she dove into her living room, grabbed her backpack, and then rushed back out.

Somehow, despite the fact that she had woken up two hours before class started, she only managed to get there as the professor entered. She flew into a seat near the front of the class and lowered the little desk piece of the auditorium chair's arm in front of her and rifled around in her backpack. She would have been concerned with how much noise she was making if everyone else hadn't been making any at all.

The professor was an older man, with salt and pepper hair and a rather interesting white goatee. He always wore a black dress shirt, and black dress pants. She had never seen him wear the same tie twice, though. He assumed that all he had ever gotten for father's day, or even his birthday, had been ties- most likely from a very young generation. Her favorite had been one spotted with dancing bananas of various sizes and colors. In her opinion, he was probably the coolest old guy ever.

When he opened his mouth to begin the discussion- because he rarely lectured, and even then, only for brief intervals- his voice seemed to radiate through the entire room. Shira never slept in this class. It was impossible to. He spoke with no accent at all, but managed to keep from being monotone. Today's topic was deductive reasoning vs. the scientific method. Needless to say, Shira leaned mostly for the scientific side, despite the usefulness of average deduction.

The class seemed to fly by, disappointingly. And, at the end, they were all to write two essays- one arguing for each method. This way, they would be able to figure out the positives and negatives of each side. It seemed to be easy enough. It was the length that bothered Shira. She had never been a fan of homework. She worked better in a school environment. She'd once contemplated stealing one of those high school desks and sticking it in her living room.

Getting up from her seat, she tossed her stuff into her bag and tossed it over one shoulder before heading outside of the room. No work today! To be fair, part time computer maintenance wasn't so bad. She could handle computers. It wasn't like she was in the military, or trying to make some scientific breakthrough. Computers were easy to understand. There was no physical labor involved. She knew everything she needed to know already. It was easy.

But, instead of making her usual trip to the shop, she turned and walked into an Arby's. It was expensive and all, but it tasted so good. She made and received her order before sitting down at one of the tables and rummaging around in her bag. After retrieving her book, she leaned back and began to read, eating slowly, almost absently, as she did so. Now, that was an interesting story. Everyone had a purpose. Her life was so monotonous these days. And after college was over, she wouldn't even have the fast paced game she made of her grades. (The more points she earned, the better.) She sighed.

She couldn't really envy the characters, though. They had rough lives. She couldn't even begin to imagine what they were really enduring. After all, the style of writing gave more of a technical look at it than a real emotional one. Lord of the Rings was an unusually dry series of books. She secretly preferred the movies, being so fast paced. Her nerd pride would never let her admit that, though. Books were automatically the way to go.

Not that it really mattered. She had both, and could go home and watch all of the movies in a row if she wanted. Actually, that sounded like a grand old idea. But first, she had promised to visit her mom. Apparently she'd gotten a new boyfriend, and wanted to introduce them. Shira glanced at her watch, and then at the food on the table in front of her. Pushing her book to the side, she proceeded to eat at a normal pace, instead of the sloth-like one she had assumed previously.

_Yum._

_

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Yes, yes. I know. Very short. Seemed appropriate to stop here.

Also, I'm tired.

'Sides, it was just the introduction to our main character.

Hope you'll stick around for a bit.

Review if you like, but there's nothing really to review about.

(*Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or anything associated with it. Don't hurt me.)


	2. A Mother's Love

Alright, time for the next chapter! Thanks for the review! This one may not be very long either, but it's still an introductionary thing. I'm currently supposed to be writing up a presentation for James Watt, but I'm not so interested in that right at the moment.

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**Chapter Two: A Mother's Love**

Shira had done her best to become presentable for the occasion. She didn't want to go embarrassing her mother this early on. She could lounge around in her kid clothes later, but for now she wore more modest, semi-dressy attire. On her torso was a button-up shirt with vertical blue and grey stripes. Her jeans had no holes in them, and were bright enough to not contrast her shirt horribly. She still wore her classic black and white chucks, though. Again, it wasn't anything too formal or strange, but it wasn't unseemly.

She stood on her mother's porch and knocked on the door. The doorbell had not worked for ages. She was rehearsing her introduction to the man (Paul, she thought his name was), when the door opened. Her mom stood there dressed in her casual clothes, and grinned at Shira. She was a short woman, and not thin. But she had her charms, and Shira couldn't help grinning right back. She entered the house quickly, picking up her mom in a hug that caused the older woman to wheeze in protest. It wasn't until she set her back down again that she noticed the man on the couch, smiling at both of them.

Shira gaped. "Mr. Caldwell!" She rounded on her mother. "You didn't tell me you were dating my history professor!" Her mom started giggling.

"I had no idea you two knew each other! That's just great!" her mother exclaimed, clapping her hands delightedly. Shira smiled at her crookedly, like she couldn't quite get the shock off her face in time for her amusement to shine through. Mr. Caldwell stood up and strode over, he was taller than Shira by a head, and taller than Mrs. Clarev by three. He and Shira shook hands, and he nodded politely.

"Good to see you, Shira. How've you been since," he pretended to look at his watch, "Five hours ago?"

"Pretty good. I got half of that paper you wanted written. Well, half of the first one, at least."

"Good, good."

The moment that followed was rather awkward. Shira kept looking at her mother, while trying to conceal the fact that she was sizing her professor up. And he seemed to be waiting for some sort of barrage of questions, as though he were a teenage boy asking Shira's daughter out, instead of her mother. Finally, something in the kitchen beeped, and Mr. Caldwell hurried off to remove something from the oven.

"He cooks?"

"Just wait 'til you taste it."

The next half hour went by with Mrs. Clarev asking Shira this question and that, and Mr. Caldwell peeking in every now and again to make some sort of clever comment or another, or to praise Shira or her mother on something or another. They ate in relative silence, the only noise being the scrape of silverware on porcelain and Shira's compliments to the chef, who blushed. It was amusing to see a teacher blush.

After dinner, Shira went to help her mother with the dishes. The older woman babbled on about nonsense before mentioning something about considering turning off her landline. She'd recently gotten a cell phone.

"Oh, did you? What's your number?" She pulled out her own and programmed the number into it with deft fingers. Then she asked for her mother's phone and began to program her number into it. She was a little offended to know that she was the second entry instead of the first, but had to chuckle as Mr. Caldwell poked his head around the corner.

She called her mom's cell to check the number. Success! However, before she cancelled the call, both phones were thrown from her hands as her professor tried to edge passed the two women at the sink to get to the refrigerator. It was a fairly cramped space, when it came down to it. Shira bit her tongue to keep from swearing in front of her mother, and especially her teacher, and retrieved the phone from under the running faucet.

Her mother's phone seemed to work fine, but hers refused to come on. No matter how many different things she tried, it would not work. She left her mother's house feeling slightly irritated, but had had a good time in general.

~*~

Shira's drive home was incredibly frustrating. She was desperate to not spend more money on a new phone. So she fiddled with it with one hand, trying to dry out the inside and removing and replacing the battery at least five times. On the sixth attempt, she dropped the battery, and tried to reach down and retrieve it without looking away from the road. Unfortunately, this did not go as planned, and she swerved a bit.

A loud honk made her drop the phone itself and sit bolt upright, putting both ands on the wheel and frantically maneuvering the car into the proper lane. It had been a close call. She sighed, and decided to leave the phone in the floorboards until she got home.

~*~

Shira had changed into a nightgown. Not literally, of course. She just put one on. She was curled up on the couch with a remote in one hand, and all the lights out in the house. It was more fun to watch movies that way. Now, Shira never wore dresses in public. They were impractical and uncomfortable when doing anything that required actual movement. But they were dreadfully cozy when she got home and sat by herself. It was freeing, without the awkwardness of nudity. At least if there was a fire, or someone knocked on the door, she wouldn't have to put something on before going outside.

Clicking a button on the remote, the DVD began to whirr around in the player, and she smiled as Galadriel's voice filled the room. The intro to the Fellowship of the Ring had always interested her. She sometimes wished someone could tell her such a dramatic story from memory, or write books in that fashion more often. She could not, though, and did not linger on it. The Shire, however, made her think.

She would like to say that she could never live a life as quiet and repetitive as theirs. If she couldn't do anything heroic in her life, what was the point? However, she was living that repetitive life. It was wasting away, and that upset her greatly, as she watched the happy little hobbits enjoy their peace. After all, that was the goal of anything dramatic, right? She didn't want to endure long days of walking and fighting and suffering. But… She didn't want to sit around on her rump until she died, either.

She could join the army. She couldn't take orders like that. She didn't respond well to anyone yelling at her. While she wasn't emotionally unstable, and she never really held a grudge, when someone she respected shouted at her, she always seemed to break down. And she'd have to respect her sergeant to take orders from him. Not to mention the fact that, if she was going to do something heroic, she wanted it to be on her terms. Her talents really only lied in math, psychology, and history. None of the jobs presented with these talents seemed to get her away from the repetitive nature of it all, and she only had a short time left until she graduated and needed to pick a career.

She could always go full time at the shop, she supposed, but that was repetitive, too. Her eyes refocused on the screen, and she sighed. The noise startled her, and she scratched her nose before attempting to pay more attention to the movie.

Now, Gandalf was a cool guy. Being a wizard, he could go where he wanted and save people as he liked. Shira had no magic, though. If she had, she probably would have been locked up and tested in order to cure cancer or something. And then there was Aragorn. As a ranger, he had free roam over the lands, and did not have to answer to anyone. Of course, Shira's world had no use for rangers and their craft, and she probably wouldn't be able to go that long without a bath anyway. Even he ended up cooped in a castle, probably filing reports on this or that or trying to solve his people's problems. He probably never went out and _did_ anything after the war. She started as she thought she heard her phone vibrating on the table, and went to retrieve it. However, it was not on the table. It was in her jeans pocket in the laundry room. It had not come on yet. She sighed and returned from her search to sit back down on the couch, phone in hand.

She curled up once more as Legolas's face filled up the screen. It was sort of funny looking when it was that _big_. Ah, now Legolas had a decent run of it. He was still royalty, and managed to bathe at least every day, she was sure- or, at least, however often elves needed to bathe. And his kingdom was swarming with those wretched spiders. He probably fought them all the time. He did not seem like the idle prince. His life probably only got boring when he eventually went to Valinor. At least, she assumed he went to Valinor. She couldn't remember if the book said so or not.

Her thoughts drifted further and further from the film, and her eyes slid shut. She could still hear the movie in the background, and influenced the beginning of her dreams, until she felt like the couch underneath her was sinking into the ground. Faster and faster it went.

She was turning in the air now, and felt wind around her.

CRACK!

Something hard and scratchy and uneven hit her in the face. Or, rather, she hit it with her face. She was lying on her stomach somewhere; outside by the looks of the twigs and leaves she saw when she opened her eyes. She felt her lip pulsing, and she sucked on it, tasting the blood and attempting to get it to stop. She just lay there, trying to gather her bearings.

But then she heard something pummeling the ground. It vibrated all through her body, and she pushed herself up. The vibrations lessened, but the noise increased. There was the sound of a quick 'clip', and she looked up to see an incredibly white horse hurtling towards her. She flung herself off of the road and watched the riders pass. One was tall, with golden hair. The other was short, and had great big hair feet. She wanted to recognize Arwen and Frodo. However, Arwen's hair was dark, and she was undoubtedly female. This rider, through the quick glimpse she had gotten, seemed male, though still elf. The only logical explanation she had was that it was Glorfindel, instead of Arwen, who was saving Frodo at this moment in time.

After all, he had to be saving the poor Hobbit. It did not take more than a moment for her to recognize a more deadly 'thunking' sort of noise coming from different, darker horses. Many riders passed her by, and she shrunk against the tree she had picked to cling to, swallowing hard. They were much more frightening in person, and she was only glad that she only had a brief look at them before they passed on, in hot pursuit of the elf and Halfling, and most of all, the One Ring.

This was, by far, the most real dream she had ever had.

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And so it begins, eh? Well, here we go. Please read and review. I should have the next chapter up soon. Don't you worry.

And, again, no flaming. This story isn't going to be anything deep, as far as I know yet. There's no confusing storyline to follow that I've tried to weave in there.

I'm going to try and avoid really stupid things, but, again, this is just for my amusement and yours. If you're looking for something serious, read the actual books.

^__^ But I really really really want you to enjoy this, and if you've got any tips, please let me know.

(*Disclaimer: I still don't own any of Tolkien's stuff. Drat.)


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